


Gummycola's Subverting Expectations Series

by gummycola



Series: Subverting Expectations [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Badboy!America, Fluff, Gen, Goodboy!England, M/M, Story Collection, Tags for current chapter only see each chapter for warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:13:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27090268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gummycola/pseuds/gummycola
Summary: A collection of fics where I try to subvert what I believe to be the usual tropes in USUK/UKUS fics.Chapter three: No one knows how straight A student Arthur Kirkland ended up dating local bad boy Alfred Jones. But they don't know the real Alfred, either.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Series: Subverting Expectations [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991305
Comments: 22
Kudos: 39





	1. Merc!Arthur and Mage!Alfred

**Author's Note:**

> Trope: Arthur is usually the magic user and Alfred is the buff merc. ;)
> 
> Warnings: Description of battle (typical to fantasy settings), swearing, mention of injury
> 
> OG Description: Mercenary Arthur protects mage Alfred from the many, many dangers on their journey, and also from Alfred himself.

Arthur was cleaning the aftermath of the giant worm battle from the inside of his chest piece when the giant moth attacked.

He managed to dodge the lump of _something_ that the thing lobbed out of its awful proboscis and had two crossbow bolts in its middle before he had even registered what was happening. Alfred, who had been fetching water at the river below, dropped his pail as he crested the hill and, before Arthur could say a word, let out a high-pitched squeal, immediately alerting the moth to his presence.

Lovely. Absolutely lovely, Arthur thought. Best job he’s ever taken.

“Become a merc, they said.” Arthur muttered, holding the discarded chest piece like a shield before him and moving quickly to defend Alfred from a barrage of slimy missiles. “Easy money, they told me. Easy money my arse.”

“Oh my God,” Alfred whimpered. “Kill it, Arthur, kill it!”

Arthur responded by turning and kicking his client square in the chest, sending him rolling ass over tits down the hill to crash into the relative safety of the riverbed below. He turned back to take stock of the creature attacking them, and found himself flat on his back, face throbbing painfully from the blow of a semi-translucent wing.

“So it’s going to be like that, is it?” Rolling aside, he snatched the blowgun from his belt and shot a dart directly into the moth-things not-a-face. He hadn’t really been aiming there, but patted himself on the back just the same.

The beast gurgled terribly, careening about wildly and nearly crashing into the ground. Satisfied, Arthur snatched what belongings of theirs he could and slid down the hill, nearly crashing into Alfred, who had been making his way back up it.

“Did you kill it?” A rage-filled chittering from above answered his question, so Arthur didn’t bother responding. He grabbed Alfred by the arm and started towing him across the river and toward the steep but short rockface separating them from the woods.

“Arthur, what if it goes toward the village? We have to kill it. I have a spell—”

“ _No._ ” Arthur shoved Alfred ahead of him and kept his eyes behind, hearing only the distant frantic flapping of insect wings. “Start climbing.”

They made it up the rock with minimal issue and maximum whining, and Arthur relaxed considerably once they were under the cool shadow of the trees.

“Arthur—”

“No, Alfred. None of your godforsaken _spells_ , not anymore. The village is far better equipped to squash that thing than we are besides.”

Alfred sighed loudly, but continued to follow at Arthur’s brisk pace. He had no idea where he was headed, but he was determined to get away from that _thing_. He needed to steady his heart rate, and take stock of the situation. Once he was satisfied with their distance from the moth, he scouted out a clear space just at the edge of the wood, and they got back to what they were doing before the latest monstrosity had dropped in on them—arguing, mostly.

“I can’t believe you didn’t kill it.” Alfred huffed. He’d grabbed the pail—thank god for that—and was lowering it on a stick into the river below them.

“Did you bloody see it? It could shoot—something. If it’s related to those ghastly worms, that slime is damned dangerous, as your holey boots can attest. I don’t fancy making the next leg of our journey while naked and blistered, you daft twit. We can’t kill _everything._ ”

Alfred is quiet a moment, wetting a bit of cloth in the pail and settling on his knees to dab at Arthur’s bloodied nose. He hadn’t realized he’d been hit so hard.

While most of what came out of his client’s mouth set Arthur’s teeth grinding, he preferred the inane babble to these quiet moments, when he could so easily observe the way the mid-afternoon sun lit his wheat-blond hair, or count the barely-there freckles which dotted his nose and cheeks, or watch the way he twisted his full bottom lip beneath a too-white tooth in worry.

“Do you think that moth thing was—was like the worm-things _mom?_ ”

Arthur snatched the cloth from Alfred’s hand and knocked his boot into the other man’s hip with a snort. “And here I thought you wanted me to kill it.”

Alfred just shuddered, busying himself with their packs. They’d only lost a bag and Arthur’s gloves, both easily replaceable. Unlike their _lives_.

“I have a spell that wouldn’t have killed it, per se. It would transmogrify—”

“Like you ‘transmogrified’ the panther-woman into a much bigger, much angrier panther-woman?”

“No, this is a different—”

“Or like you ‘pacified’ the walking skeleton into an armoured chariot with a head and many, many teeth?”

Alfred straightened and stomped back toward the wood. Arthur’s stomach turned with worry, but he relaxed when he saw Alfred stoop to gather something growing at the base of a tree.

He returned with all the makings of a poultice, which he bound up and shoved into Arthur’s bruised face. “I thought you were interested in helping people.”

Arthur just gazed at him wearily. “I am interested in keeping you alive until we get to the island, and I am interested in possessing all of my body parts when that day arrives.”

Alfred crossed his arms and looked away from him. “Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine!”

“I’m glad it’s fine!”

“I’m so happy that everything is definitely fine!”

And that’s when the fire-breathing salamander ascended from the river and started belching flaming rocks.


	2. Medium!Alfred and Skeptic!Arthur Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trope: Arthur is usually the one who can 'see' things, Alfred is typically the skeptic. (Thanks to kaijusnowglobe for the recommendation!)
> 
> Warnings: Alpha/Omega dynamics, supernatural occurrences, very brief cheeky allusion to sexual activity.

Arthur remembers exactly how they met.

He can remember the smell of beer and grass, the exact angle of the setting sun across the crowded lawn, and the lyrics being butchered by the cover band on stage. He remembers the way his shirt was clinging to his sticky back and how much he didn’t want to be there, until a pink stage light swung out and highlighted a boy up ahead, who, for whatever reason—fate, coincidence, because he was bored and the band sucked—was looking behind him at just that moment.

Their eyes met, and the rest was history. Never mind Alfred had actually been sitting on another alpha’s shoulders—details, details. Arthur’s face was between his legs by the end of the night.

He’d thought many a time over the following months that he couldn’t understand how such an omega had never kept a partner for long. Alfred had been so insecure and worried at the start, acting overeager and almost clingy. Luckily, Arthur had a soft spot for that behavior, but he didn’t like the source of it, and he didn’t understand how Alfred couldn’t see how bloody perfect he was. Well, he’d just have to show him, he decided.

And all was rosy for a while.

Then they moved in together.

* * *

“There’s a woman in the crack of the door.”

It was 4:04– time not found, as Alfred was fond of saying, when it was 4:04 in the afternoon, and he wasn’t bug-eyed with terror and trembling, blanket tucked up beneath his chin and blue eyes zeroed in on—on absolutely nothing.

Arthur groggily reached for him, felt how tense with terror he was, and shushed him instinctively, massaging his arms. “There’s nothing there. You’re dreaming.”

Alfred just shook harder. “She’s there, she lives in the crack of the door. Look, Arthur.”

Arthur looked. He knew what he’d see. A bit of carpet and, if he squinted, the door across from this one. He sighed and started to get out of bed.

“Do you want me to close the door, Alfred?”

It was Arthur’s turn to jolt a little as his omega’s head tilted toward him rapidly, as if he’d just noticed he was there. “Yes, yes, close the door. She doesn’t exist outside the crack. She isn’t on either side of the door. She’s only between.”

Choosing to pretend he didn’t hear most of that, Arthur snapped the door closed, and Alfred sagged back into the sheets, silent.

* * *

“Darling, did you have a nightmare last night?” He tried to say it as nonchalant as possible, tip-tapping at his laptop and glancing at the many blue squares signifying another meeting-packed day, his attention really on his omega.

He didn’t miss the stiffness of Alfred’s shoulders, gone nearly as quickly as it appeared.

“Wh-why do you ask?”

Alfred turned, protein shake in hand, and gave him an unusual smile. His scent betrayed nothing.

“Well, I thought I heard you saying something, that’s all. You seemed frightened.”

Alfred shrugged, sipping chocolate sludge through a straw and moving out of the kitchen. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He stated with finality, and that was that.

Only, it wasn’t.

* * *

Alfred was supposed to be making more popcorn, but fifteen minutes had passed, which was overlong even for one of his impromptu snacking sessions. Arthur found him just outside the kitchen, hands folded against his stomach and eyes distant.

“Alfred, just what are you doing? Are you alright?” Arthur smoothed a hand over Alfred’s forehead, relieved when blue eyes met his own, a half-smile quirking onto Alfred’s face.

“Of course. I’m just waiting my turn. Just another minute.” Alfred looked past him into the kitchen and nodded his head, and Arthur followed his gaze to the darkened, empty room.

“What are you on about, silly? Waiting for what?” Arthur stepped into the kitchen and flipped on the light as Alfred gasped and grabbed his arm, preventing him from taking another step.

Turning back toward him in confusion, Arthur frowned. “What on earth is the matter, Alfred? Is there a mouse or something?”

He heard Alfred take a sharp breath in, watched him blink rapidly a moment. “Y-yes, that’s all. Just a mouse, haha! You go sit down, I’ll take care of the popcorn.” Alfred tugged on his arm again, his eyes creasing a little with—with what? Worry? Fear?

“Alfred, I—”

But he could read that expression, suddenly. Desperation, pleading—the forced smile, the tight grip on his forearm. He was begging him, silently, not to ask. To act like things were normal. 

“Okay, my sweet. Take your time.”

* * *

“Alfred, look at me.”

The omega continued staring pensively out of the living room window, silent.

“We have to be able to leave the _flat_ , love.” Arthur said, tentatively resting a hand on the other’s thigh.

“We _can_ leave. We can go whenever we want.” Alfred’s gaze settled on his hand, but he still wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“We are not taking the _fire escape_ every time we have somewhere to be! We’ve got to be able to use the stairs—”

“Don’t!” Blue eyes finally met his own, wide and trembling. “We can’t use the stairs. Please, Arthur.”

Frustrated, Arthur stood. “There isn’t anything there. Mrs. Ingle went down the stairs just this morning and she was perfectly fine.”

“He won’t touch _her_.”

“Who is he? Alfred, there isn’t anyone _there_. You’re scaring me. I think you should talk to someone—”

Alfred snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah, like I haven’t tried _that_ before. Look, just—just, just forget it. Forget me, okay? I knew this would happen, it always does, every time I think—I try to have hope it won’t happen but it _does_. I know you don’t believe me, no one ever has, I’ve done this dance over and over…” He had slowly begun curling in on himself more and more, sinking into the couch miserably.

“I can’t do it with you, Arthur. I love you, I can’t stand to see you—for you to look at me like I’m crazy, I can’t take it—” Arthur’s heart cracked in two as tears began to slide down Alfred’s flushed cheeks. He moved to his side and enveloped him in his arms, nuzzling his head.

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I don’t. I know you aren’t. You really see something there, don’t you?” He murmured.

“I don’t just see it, Arthur. It’s there. He is.”

“Who?”

Alfred hesitated, twisting out of Arthur’s hold to face him. “Howard Kellman, the super who died after falling off the roof in 1989. He wants to—to get me. He thinks I’m his omega, even though his omega was a lady named Shirley.” Alfred rolled his eyes. “And he wants to kill you, because you’re keeping his omega from him. Get it?”

“So what do we do?”

“Just wait. He’ll go away. They always do. Eventually.”

Arthur studied his omega quietly, taking in his blotched cheeks, his sharp, intelligent eyes. He breathed in his scent—healthy, steady, hopeful, but laced with terror. How had he not recognized that on him? It had been there so many times before.

“Okay. We’ll wait.”

“You really believe me?” Alfred whispered.

“I believe that you believe this, and that’s fine. I can handle it.” Arthur offered him a smile and pulled him into his arms again. “It’s going to be alright. I promise.”

Alfred cautiously relaxed into his hold with a deep breath. “I guess that will have to do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part 1 of 2 unless people like, really don't like it. I also might do a standalone sequel fic for Halloween.
> 
> Please leave comments if you're reading! Let me know what you think and give suggestions if you'd like. :) Much love.


	3. Badboy!Alfred and Goldenboy!Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trope: Arthur is usually the delinquent, Alfred is usually the goody-two-shoes. Maybe not the most convincing trope, but I'm really, really happy with this chapter.
> 
> Warnings: A swear, and a single angsty-sentence. Otherwise fluff.

“I’m off for now—see you next weekend, Mrs. Reese.” Arthur told the woman at the front desk, slipping his backpack over his shoulders.

“You going to go home and get some rest?” The gray-haired librarian asked, eyebrows raised over her slim glasses.

With a guilty smile, Arthur admitted he had a few more errands to run. Before her tutting could get too extreme, he escaped through the tinted glass door and immediately began fishing his phone from his pocket. He had a text from Ludwig— _yes_ he was going to help out at the community garden later, but first he had Meals on Wheels to deliver. He typed out a suitably annoyed response one-handed, pulling his keys out with the other, his eyes glued to the screen.

He didn’t even see the person leaning against his car’s hood, and tripped right over the toe of their cowboy boot. Gloved hands shot out to snatch him before he could get acquainted with the asphalt. Arthur turned, shaken, to find his boyfriend grinning at him sheepishly.

“Baby, you have _got_ to look at where you’re walkin’ before you get hurt.” Alfred drawled, grin fading into a fond smile.

Arthur floundered speechlessly for a moment with his hands full before unlocking the car and tossing phone, keys and bag inside. He knew he only had fifteen minutes before he needed to hit the road, so he hopped into the seat and yanked Alfred forward by the hips, then by the collar, pulling him down for a harsh kiss.

When they parted for breath, a husky chuckle made goosebumps break out all over the English boy’s body. Alfred cupped his face gently, smoothing leather-covered digits over his skin while he smooched at his eyes, cheeks, nose and chin.

“Good to see you too, stranger.” He said with a final peck to his lips.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming by?” Arthur asked with a pout, though he was secretly delighted by the surprise. His green eyes blatantly traveled up and down Alfred’s frame. Well, it _had_ been ages since he’d seen him, a full eight hours or something like that. Unbearable, really.

He was as perfectly gorgeous as ever, of course, in all his intentional ridiculousness. A leather jacket, tight pants, anime t-shirt and the aforementioned boots made him look like a—like a—well, there was nothing else like Alfred, really.

“Cause I knew you’d tell me not to, that’s why. You’re always too busy for me on the weekends, Mr. President.”

“And _you’re_ always grounded, or doing something to get yourself grounded, Mr. Dropout.”

“Slander. I’ve been a good boy this week. Which is why I—” He splayed a hand across his chest with a wink. “—am taking _you_ —” he pointed his other hand at Arthur “out tonight. Midnight. Wear that thing I like.”

Arthur hid his affection behind an unimpressed glare. “What _thing_ you like? Wait, hold on, I’m not going anywhere with you at midnight. If you get caught breaking curfew again—”

“Don’t stress, princess. The fuzz will be busy with something I definitely don’t know about, involving a person I have never met and am definitely not related to. We’re golden. ‘Sides, it’s not what you think. I wanna show you something.”

They spent the rest of Arthur’s precious free time in the parking lot, bantering and giggling and acting like the lovestruck teenagers they were. When Arthur finally kicked Alfred out of his car (“No you cannot go see the ‘lonely geezers’ you twit.”) he adamantly refused, once again, to meet him later.

Alfred told him he’d bring the bike around the back.

* * *

Pressed against Alfred’s firm, warm back as he coasted his motorcycle along the dark streets, Arthur felt like they were the only two people in the world.

Daydreaming and relaxed, wind cutting through his loose-knit sweater, Arthur was too dazed to realize where they were going. When Alfred pulled to a stop along a country road in the middle of nowhere, Arthur just silently took his hand and followed him down a gentle slope, the moon and stars bright enough to show the path.

It was a trail or something—one of those little random hiking spots out in the boonies. They stopped at a picnic table near the trailhead, and Alfred started to unpack the little bag he’d stashed on his bike—he pulled out a blanket for Arthur, a lantern, and a notebook. A pack of cigarettes were dropped back in, but not before Arthur caught sight of them and dutifully growled.

“We’ve got to come out here in the summer.” Alfred deflected, sliding onto the bench and pulling the other boy close. “The fireflies look like Christmas lights in the trees. You’ll love it.”

Arthur doesn’t say that by next summer, he’ll be in university some 60 miles away and probably taking extra courses, or working. He just rests his head on Alfred’s shoulder and listens.

“Fuckin’ curfew, man. Like they can tell people _when_ they can’t be somewhere. How are you supposed to ever see the stars then? It’s stupid.” Alfred flicked open the notebook, which was full of things Arthur didn’t comprehend. He didn’t need to. He just wanted to understand _Alfred_. 

Arthur closed his eyes and savored his boyfriend’s presence, the rise and fall of his chest, the smell of leather and cheap cologne. He wanted this, he wanted _them_ , forever. “Well it certainly doesn’t stop you, love.” He murmured.

Alfred held him even closer, chin atop his head.

“Nothing ever does.” He replied.


End file.
